


The Hogyouku Chronicles

by Hesesols



Series: Eclipse [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space, Enemies to Friends to Lovers (eventually), F/M, Futuristic Space AU, Get ready for puns and LOTS of Chosen One references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-23
Updated: 2020-05-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:09:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24342574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hesesols/pseuds/Hesesols
Summary: And so it begins- a journey through the cosmos with the unlikeliest of companions on the adventure of a lifetime.Lady Kuchiki walked and stood with the stance of a soldier; shoulders back, ramrod straight and chin up. She glanced at him suspiciously, a silent once-over from the top of his orange hair, right down to the soles of his well-worn boots before her gaze made their way back to lock gaze with his.Her dainty nose twitched and she frowned, no doubt displeased with something about him. Ichigo bet that it had something to do with his rather battered-looking attire. Che, he scowled, temper flaring; what a snob.With arms akimbo, the diminutive pilot shot him a challenging look, one that had him bristling for the almost condescending look in her eyes."My name is Rukia Kuchiki and I am your pilot. I hope we get along for the sake of this mission. You have any problem with that," violet eyes narrowed, "oh Great Chosen One?"
Relationships: Kuchiki Rukia/Kurosaki Ichigo
Series: Eclipse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757437
Comments: 8
Kudos: 17





	The Hogyouku Chronicles

**_Extra ecclesiam nulla salus_ **

.

. 

_I spy with my little eye something …_

. 

_Purple._

. 

Ichigo snorted. 

Purple was everywhere. 

It was in the Byzantium dye of the Archbishop's floor-sweeping ceremonial robes, so delicately laced at the hems with immaculate golden stitches and heavily trimmed with ermine. With a heavy, red-hide bound tome open before him, the venerable man stood behind a raised podium, before an audience that was swathed just as elegantly as he was in hues of pastel and lavender. 

The man was old, well past his prime with wrinkles dotting his forehead but he commanded the crowd's undivided attention. A pair of half-moon spectacles perched on the bridge of his hawkish nose as those watery blue eyes of his scanned through paragraph after paragraph on the wrinkling, yellow pages with his knobbly index finger. 

Lucidly, he sang out the worshipping praises for the One. His deep baritone voice reverberated like a bell in a silent mass, a call so bright and true as he spoke at great lengths in a tongue that Ichigo had no affinity for, but had every guest in attendance nodding in acquiescence. 

Above him, twinkling mauve fairy lights adorned the soaring vault of the Cathedral, where gold shimmering tiles covered the entirety of the magnificent work of art, reflecting the soft tint of light like thousands of square mirrors. 

Superbly crafted and one of such awe-inspiring craftsmanship, it was the epitome of grandeur and opulence. Every so often, the lights would wink surreptitiously at the audience below but Ichigo was the only one who would know since the rest of the crowd had their eyes glued to the front. 

Bored, his gaze travelled downwards to grimace at the glowing sphere resting on the padded cushion, set like the holiest of all objects behind a glass case and away from him. From afar, it looked just like any ordinary polished stone and like it, it was cold and smooth to the touch and roughly about the size of a pigeon's egg. But unlike a common pebble, this sphere was special. 

It was known as the Orb- or the _Hogyouku_ as it is known among the First Men. 

There was a glint of life behind its seemingly lifeless exterior and the mother-of-pearl sheen exuded by it was mystical- a dead giveaway to its unworldly origins and of course, like all things purple, it was a bane of his existence as of the moment. 

Quite truthfully, he was starting to fucking loathe the colour. 

Thousands of Disciples would burn themselves in pyres for a chance of even touching it. In their world, it was holy and pure; untouchable and unsullied. It was the legendary Gift from the One that supposedly came from the Realm beyond the Stars. 

.

No one knew how life came to be, but among the Disciples it is universally acknowledged that all life came from The Holy One, Glory be His name. 

The One came upon their barren land of desolateness and breathed into existence a flourishing land of magnificent achievements and prosperous harvests. For the primitive hosts of the land, He shunned them not, but instead gifted them foresight and thought, the ability for speech and the affinity for making discoveries; crafted their tools of trade and art, providing sustenance in all its form and blessed them with skills that made life bearable. 

He drew maps and showed them how, to look to the stars for navigation, to turn their speech and thoughts onto writings, to observe and will their imagination for invention and utilise this skill to every parts of their life, to erect monuments, temples and buildings in His name. In times of peril, He came forth to shelter the mass with kindness and grace. 

And how did the people repay Him? 

With shameful disobedience. 

The sudden ease of workload made them lazy and foolish; they began to scorn hard work and had turned to Him for the littlest of matters. The Almighty had turned them away, but they in a fit of righteous anger, torched and destroyed all His brilliant creations. 

It angered Him so that He had to leave. When the people realized the true extent of their folly and knew it in their heart that they were in the wrong, they had wept and shed enough tears to fill oceans, but it was already too late. 

Nothing would sway him in his decision. 

However, before He was due to return to His realm, He imparted upon them a vision of things to come. Small and insignificant as they were now, the Great One foresaw a plentiful and marvellous future for them, where they were the Conquerors of Stars and the Rulers of their own Destiny. He passed on to them knowledge about the Realm that exists, the plane of reality of which they, the mortals resided in. 

He gave them the Orb. 

* * *

_"The Orb is my messenger, my will in this realm. Guard it safely while it slumbers till the day it awakens to the touch of a worthy Champion and All will be redeemed."_

_"To the Champion, the Orb shall be a Stone no more, but speak and thus reveal the Truth. Come forth and see to the culminations of Great expectations!"_

* * *

This was how the Society and its Disciples came to be. The Society existed solely for the safeguarding of the Orb where they zealously heralded the words and writings of the One, waiting ever so faithfully for the day of the Orb's awakening.

And so began a torturous wait of two millennia until at last, the First Men made their foray into the Solar System and beyond it. As prophesized, they structured a sprawling nation of the likes that had never been seen throughout the course of History and then, at the height of such glorious advancements, scarcely a century after the launching of the first spacecraft vessel into space, the Orb had awakened to its Champion's touch. 

A very _unlikely_ Champion, to say the least. 

.

_It's the colour of power and royalty, you uncouth! It's not my fault that you have no taste._

.

He growled. It's been three days since the Orb started talking to him in his head and it would _not_ shut up! 

It gave him a migraine and the Archbishop was less than understanding of his plight. 

No, instead the Exalted had made him sit through a continuous twenty-three hours Mass for a celebration of the Awakening, where every single syllable uttered by the One had been brought forth, exclaimed and examined under a great deal of scrutiny. 

He frowned. 

These people needed a life. 

. 

_Well, it is plain to see that My Master wasted his breathe when he gave you your life, you ungrateful whelp!_

. 

He ignored the nagging sentinel being and did his best to tune out the rest of the Exalted's long-winding sermon. He was only sticking around for as long as he needed to until he found a way to get rid of that insufferable thing at the back of his mind. 

. 

_Oh believe me, the feeling is very much mutual._

. 

Acerbically, he snarled and kept his eyes glued on the beard of the Archbishop that paralleled the length of his sweeping robes. The urge to interrupt him before he could finish was over-whelming. 

Mercifully, a chorus of 'Glory Be His Name' rang out from the seated audience and all at once, they rose to their feet, signalling the end of Mass. 

The Archbishop with his hands outstretched and a benevolent smile, motioned for his various acolytes. Wearing alternate shades of light lavender, they hid their visage under the violet cloaks, shielding their identity and form, saying nothing unless addressed by the venerable man himself. One had crept up to shut and lock the impressive volume of text, transporting it back into the Shrine and a trio came forth to remove the podium. 

The much-revered Archbishop himself came forth to fetch the Orb for this was too precious and rare an object to be treated by an ordinary Acolyte. With as much care as one would entreat an object from the One, he removed it from its glass display delicately and reverently bowed. 

Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief, his eyes trailing after the hunched figure of the aged Archbishop, the Orb in hand. With the Mass done, the venerable Exalted headed back to his studies and the Shrine, where the Orb would be once again placed in its pedestal of gold, located deep in the sanctum of the towering Cathedral and forever under the watchful eye of the Society, its Disciples and the very Head of the Society itself. 

Right, he thought grimly; it was time to make a move. 

His well-worn boots had scarcely even made contact with the polished floor tiles when he was swamped by a thousand faceless entities and their out-reaching hands that seemed determined to grab a hold of him. 

To say that the hero of the hour was taken aback was an understatement of enormous proportions. 

Taking advantage of his moment of shock, bony fingers around his unsuspecting wrist and pulled him towards a sea of delighted Disciples, all too ready to shower him with praises and congratulations. All those years of praying and waiting have not been in vain, at long last, the Champion, the Chosen had come forth as promised to right their wrongs and redeem them in the eyes of the One. 

The Chosen's name was Ichigo Kurosaki and how they rejoiced of his existence. 

His existence had made it all possible and The Holy One, Glory be His Name shall appear once more and purge them of their ancestors' sins. The future is bright and nothing, absolutely _nothing_ can go wrong for they had Him on their side and His ever-promising favour. 

A stunned Ichigo came face to face with a bespectacled, toothless elderly who smiled widely and eagerly pressed a kiss to the back of his palm. In his ears, he could hear a susurrrous chant of the Disciples as they drew in and had him surrounded from every direction possible. 

He could just hear the evilly gleeful chuckles erupting from the sentinel being. 

. 

_Have fun…_

. 

The young man's lips twitched as he fought the urge to cringe at the overly affectionate displays and the star-struck look on their faces. 

_Fuck!_

. 

A bone-crushing grip enveloped his left hand in an over-enthusiastic handshake from a portly man decked in his shimmering splendour of violet silks and silver threads. His dark hair was gelled slick and his rich, boisterous laughter seemed to be brimming with delight, ringing through the Cathedral, but to the young man, it had never seemed more false. 

"It's an honour knowing you, the Chosen." 

_Know him?_

He scoffed. Up until three days ago, these people did not even know of his existence. To them, he was just Ichigo Kurosaki, a nobody, just another name to an unimpressive face, someone you see in the streets on a busy day, minding their own business as you minded your own. 

He fixes ships for a living; hardly anyone would notice him unless they knew where to look for him. 

People trusted technicians or Techs, to handle the maintenance and various engineering complexities involving a ship. It does not mean that they were ever given much of an acknowledgement for the contributions of their work outside a Dock and certainly no one would ever go out of their way just to say 'thank you'. 

They were Techs. It's what they do! 

. 

_ARGHH!_

Someone managed to tackle him in a fierce hug that had his lungs gasping for air and sloppily pressed kisses to his cheeks. His eyes watered, too surprised to even deflect the attack. 

"You are our saviour, Kurosaki-san." 

_Saviour?_

.

He thought in disbelief. Up until three days ago, he was no one's hero. 

His world revolved around his sisters, his idiot of a father, their two-storey humble family home/clinic on Karakura, a small, unassuming town on a moon on Jupiter, his own bachelor pad on the space station orbit and his unassuming job as a Tech. His mother was no longer amongst the living, his sisters were fraternal twins, barely entering their sophomore year and his father was a moron who couldn't be trusted near the vicinity of any kitchen appliances unless you want their house burnt down and asunder. 

Life was peaceful, aside for some less than amiable father-son bonding sessions that his fool of a father seemed to delight in partaking whenever he visited his sisters during weekends. As for work, he was a Mech Tech, so he had only the various nuts and bolts, the small overhead light from his crewman helmet as company while he tinkered away at the engine bay of airships. 

He was a Mech Tech, a specialist technician, if you will; who puts his life on the line on a daily basis to perform complex alterations and repairs on engines in dark and narrow spaces that had never seen a single beam of sunlight. The size of a single airship rivaled that of a sprawling mansion, but there was just enough space to fit a half-grown child in the dark engine bay, where he and his colleagues toil about for about seven hours a day on average. Stiff necks and muscle aches are common work hazards and death was within a hair's breadth. 

Some say that Mech Techs have a death wish and Ichigo supposed that it does take a certain kind of crazy to take up the job. He did it because the pay was good, better than his old man's job as a medical surgeon and way better than the other Techs. 

The work itself was a good challenge. 

A single over-tightening of the wrong screw could trigger the plane's auto-defense system, causing it to go into safety mode and the heat generated when the nuclear power source heats up was enough to fry a grown man alive. It's been known to happen more than once when a Mech Tech was little too slow and a little too careless with _his_ screws- yes, _his_ (i.e. men because the majority of Mech Techs are motherfuckers who have either inhaled too much hydrazine fuel or exposed themselves to too much nuclear radiation to be sane, and whose idea of Friday night was to dare each other to do stupid things like go steal the Orb). 

Well, he supposed, he shouldn't be moaning since he's technically one of those _stupid_ asses who accepted the dare. 

But the risks and the shitty companions he's stuck with, he would take them any day. 

The adrenaline, the rush and the rewarding feeling of _finally_ understanding what was holding her back, diagnostic repairing strategies, getting the wires in place, soldering them, and ultimately watching that baby take off like she was supposed to- that; that was his _high_. 

He would sooner die than have that taken away from him. 

With such a narrow work space, it seemed only logical that he did his work in solitude and away from crowds, as did most Techs. Ichigo was not misogynistic or enochlophobic, but he did like his privacy and he could personally count the people he interacted in a week on one hand. 

Work starts at nine sharp every morning without fail, he starts off with some basic maintenance, draws up a few new alterations if needed and then tinkers about with any major engine mishaps for the aircraft vessels. On the rare occasions that a repair involved was too large a workload, he would contact a colleague and have it sorted out on another day. That was it, and he leaves work at precisely five minutes before five. 

No one seemed to expect anything grand from him aside from him doing his job. 

It was one of those things that just inherently is _so_. 

He was nobody's hero and he was fine with that. 

.

A hard thump landed at his back, knocking the air right out of him and him out of his reverie as the nameless stranger congratulated him on his achievement. 

"You did good, kid." 

_Good?_

He fought the urge to shout and scream at the mass. Just what the hell was wrong with them! 

The Orb awakening to his touch was the **worst** thing that had ever happened to him! 

Well sure it was pretty cool at first, being the only person who has ever managed to steal the Orb under the watchful gaze of the omnipresent Acolytes and of course, earning every single dime and penny of the ridiculous bet pool that's been going on for, well since forever among the Mech Techs. 

But after that, everything quickly went south. 

For starters, it completely messed up his strict routine and work schedule! 

All of a sudden, he could not focus on his work because there was always something jabbering away in the back of his head and it made him claustrophobic if he stayed in the bay for too long. He was supposedly the best- one of the rising stars in the field and now he's struggling to even conduct simple diagnostic tests. 

This had never happened before and how he rued the day he took up the stupid dare. 

Now, he grimaced at the adoring looks sent his way; not only did he have an omnipotent _thing_ lingering at the back of his mind, tuning in to his every thought, he also had to tolerate a flocking rabid army of Disciples, all of them just clamouring for a touch of his hand and various other body parts. 

He could fart out loud, declare them idiots and heck run around the System naked, and they would still worship the very ground he walked on, hounding him every step of the way. 

They're so demanding and noisy! 

He wanted his old life back. 

He scowled. The sooner he sees the Archbishop and has everything sorted out with him, the sooner he could get rid of the annoying Orb and the crowd that came with it. 

And good fucking riddance! 

. 

**"The Archbishop has requested a meeting with the Chosen."**

The bearer of news was an Acolyte, a hint of blonde hair glinting from his hood with pale blue eyes that betrayed no emotions, his voice distinctively masculine as he relayed the message. 

To see an Acolyte breaking his silence was so rare an event that it stunned the mass into silence. 

Seizing the opportunity with his bare hands, Ichigo wasted no time in grabbing hold of the man's unsuspecting arm and accosted him, dragging him away from the crowd. 

* * *

"Please be seated," said the wizened old man behind the formidable looking table, who was gazing at him with a calculating look and a smile that did not quite reach his eyes.

It rubbed Ichigo the wrong way. "I think I'll stand," he replied coolly. 

The old man frowned, but did not push the matter further. He cleared his throat loudly and the Chosen distinctly heard the click of a lock. He whirled back to face the direction of the door, only to find that it had disappeared from sight. 

Ichigo scowled darkly, glaring at the Archbishop who was unruffled by the slightest. Just what was that old man planning? 

"What's going on?" 

A perfectly-raised eyebrow quirked and the Archbishop replied in perfect innocence. "Nothing, I just wish for us to talk in a more private setting. You of all people, Kurosaki should understand the importance of privacy, I trust?" 

Blue eyes stared sharply into his and the scowl on his face deepened. 

"What are you driving at, old man? If you have a bone to pick with me," glowered Ichigo, "I suggest you just spit it out and say it to my face. I don't do well with riddles." 

Another sickening smile surfaced on those lips, making the brazen-haired young man's hackles rise. "Do not be so defensive, my dear child. I am merely making polite conversation." 

Ha, Ichigo snorted. 

"Polite conversation, my ass," he muttered. 

"Cut to the chase, old man. I want to have that voice at the back of my head gone," he replied blithely. Determination flashed in his brown eyes. "What do I have to do?" 

"Whatever gave you the impression that I," said the Archbishop, "Would know how to do that?" The old sanctimonious coot even had the nerve to smirk at him and how it made his blood boil. 

"Oh gee, I guess you are even more useless than I thought you were," he drawled back sarcastically. 

Fixing a glare on the man, "I am leaving," Ichigo told the man sharply, "So if you can just clear your throat again and have your creepy little minions press some button and have the door _magically_ appear again, that would be great." 

The old man began to frown and narrowed his eyes at the younger man. Such impertinence, he thought and Ichigo resolutely refused to back down from a fight as whimsical as a stare down. He reciprocated the eye contact fiercely and the two men locked horn. 

Two seconds into the competition, the Archbishop broke out laughing, mirth in his eyes. His resounding jocular chuckles resonated throughout the room while he struggled to contain them. 

Ichigo could only stand awkwardly and wait for the laughter to subside. When he finally did, the outcome was altogether not what Ichigo had envisioned. 

"You are a very amusing young man, Ichigo Kurosaki," said the Archbishop to the Chosen. 

"I like you." 

Ichigo was dumbfounded. Everyone here was _fucking_ insane! 

"So, you know how to get rid of the voice?" 

"Why, of course, my dear Chosen. As do you," came the amused reply. 

Ichigo growled. Now, they were back to square one again. "But I told you. I don't know how to!" 

. 

_Moron, you have to return me to my Master!_

. 

"Shut up!" he growled. "I didn't hear you telling me about it before." 

. 

_I apologize, but it does seem rather futile to tell you anything of importance when you seem absolutely determined to ignore me and deny my existence._

. 

His mood soured. Had he ever mentioned how the Orb was a complete and utter pain in the ass? 

"Right," he quipped sarcastically, "and I suppose that a map is just going to suddenly magically appear before me when the Archbishop clears his throat again?" 

The Archbishop in question cleared his throat and shot the young man a questioning look, as though offended by the careless comment. 

"No offense to you, of course," he added hastily to placate the distinguished elderly. 

"None taken," replied the Archbishop, "though I am a bit, well, surprised, for the lack of a better word, that you do not remember the lines ' _The Orb is my messenger, my will in this realm_ '?" 

Ichigo fought the urge to face palm. But that was not fair at all, they can't seriously expect him to pay attention to every single line during the Mass. And besides, the ever-so helpful Orb could have dropped him a hint about this to save him the embarrassment. 

. 

_Alas Master, why did You have to choose this stinky Neanderthal whose only merit seemed to be pinning the blame on some wholly innocent third party?_

. 

The Chosen scoffed loudly. Innocent, was the last word he would be using to describe the object in question, the words 'annoying', 'frustrating' and 'evil' were his top picks. 

"How soon can we leave?" he asked instead. 

The lips of the Archbishop curved into a smile. "A ship is already prepared. Once the supplies are loaded, you are ready to depart the instant you choose to do so." 

"My crew members?" 

Ichigo would loathe to share a ship with any more than five strangers and five he reasoned was a good number- a pilot, a co-pilot, a medic, a navigator and of course, a weapons-master. Five, he thought; was just right. 

"Just one," smiled the man benignly. 

Ichigo's eyes widened, but he supposed he could do without a cook and he was fairly decent enough in his knowledge about bandages and medicines- the only perk of being born to the rambunctious Dr. Kurosaki, mind you. The Orb, the smart-ass as it was, could take care of navigation with him being a 'map' or some creepy 'messenger and will of the One' and all. A pilot is an absolute must, so that leaves a weapons-master. 

. 

_You don't really need a weapons-master._

. 

"Excuse me?" he queried in disbelief. "Enlighten me then, what would we use to defend ourselves when we are under attack?" 

Surprisingly, it was the Archbishop who answered the question. "This is a holy envoy," his expression turned solemn and his conviction was great. "No man would dare encroach upon the ship and this sacred mission!" 

Ichigo narrowed his eyes. The elder was taking this matter much too lightly. It was not unheard of for pirates to tail after envoys, especially those bearing the seal of the Society and with the Orb on board, anyone could hold the ship ransom and become millionaires overnight. 

He wanted to object but was rudely interrupted by the venerable Exalted before he could even begin. 

"I appreciate you concern, my child. But know that we come to Him in a bid to redeem ourselves in His eyes and show that we are no longer violent beings who would ride to war over the simplest of matters. We must show faith and know that we have Him on our side," he made a sign. 

"He shall provide and He will not fail us." 

The young Tech had no choice but to forfeit his argument at that. There was absolutely no use in trying to persuade any member of the Society once _that_ particular line was introduced in a conversation. His only hope was that it was not a misplaced conviction. 

It was after all, his ass on the line. 

"Right, so the pilot in question, where the hell is he?" 

.

" **She** happens to be standing right here," came a dry reply as a young woman entered his line of vision, stepping into the room through a door that had magically appeared again. 

She was tiny, barely reaching his shoulders and garbed in a silver suit, skin tight garbed with fingerless white gloves and equally spotless white boots. Ichigo had been working long enough in the Docks to recognize the uniform for a First-Class Captain by sight and the newcomer was definitely a member of the exclusive clique. 

Her head full of black strands was cut short to frame her heart-shaped face; elfin delicate features that stood out with nothing but cool appraisal in her eyes. 

His gut instinct told him that she was going to be trouble the minute he laid eyes on her, especially when he saw her glinting violet eyes. 

Turning towards the Archbishop, she executed a deferral bow gracefully. 

"Archbishop," she addressed respectfully and the old man bid her to rise, appraising her with much warmth and happiness in the pale blue eyes of his that it was obvious that those two knew each other well. 

"Ichigo," the old man called him to attention and proceeded to introduce the newcomer to him. "This is Lady Rukia Kuchiki, your pilot for this mission," he finished with a simple smile and motioned for Rukia to greet the Chosen. 

Lady Kuchiki walked and stood with the stance of a soldier; shoulders back, ramrod straight and chin up. She glanced at him suspiciously, a silent once-over from the top of his orange hair, right down to the soles of his well-worn boots before her gaze made their way back to lock gaze with his. 

Her dainty nose twitched and she frowned, no doubt displeased with something about him. Ichigo bet that it had something to do with his rather battered-looking attire. Che, he scowled, temper flaring; what a snob. 

With arms akimbo, the diminutive pilot shot him a challenging look, one that had him bristling for the almost condescending look in her eyes. 

"My name is Rukia Kuchiki and I am your pilot. I hope we get along for the sake of this mission. You have any problem with that," violet eyes narrowed, " _oh Great Chosen One_?" 

Ichigo snarled, hating the insulting drawl she was using and replied just as coldly, "None at all. I just envisioned you being at the very least, taller." 

He watched as fire flashed through her eyes and the sudden upward tilt in her chin as she proceeded to fix him with a glare so sharp, it could have cut through steel. 

Ha! Well, the lady in question ran out of luck because Ichigo Kurosaki was made of sterner stuff and was hardly intimidated by her glare. 

She was the first to break eye contact. 

"Well, I thought you would be smarter than a walking neon sign," she parried back, bemusedly looking at his mass of orange hair. "But I guess that's life for you, you can't have everything you want." 

. 

_Ooh burn._

. 

"Shut up!" 

* * *

Lady Rukia Kuchiki was a decorated war heroine.

She was an elite among elites- a member of the Titanium Brigade, a First-class Captain who served during the Wasteland Conflicts and received the Platinum Cross medal **twice** , the youngest recipient of the Blue Haven Medal, broke every single record there ever was during her time in the Academy and last but not least, a scion hailing from the noble and most ancient House of Kuchiki. 

The Kuchikis were devout Disciples and were amongst the first colonizers from First Men to reach the outer reaches of the Milky Way. 

In fact, her great-great-great grandfather was the leader and pioneer to one of more ill-fated expeditions beyond the Andromeda galaxy. His body and that of his crew and ship- Vesta IX were never recovered and were presumed to have been lost to a black hole. 

They are nobility and generations of loyal service to the Society and the Council- the governing body of their world, defined their legacy. Her ancestors have had flourishing and illustrious careers in politics; her own brother, the illustrious 28th clan leader of the Kuchiki family, had recently joined the ranks of the niche as he currently sits upon the Council as the Minister of Foreign Affairs. 

She had only recently received her promotion to Captain. At this moment in time, she was supposed to be out with her navigator and friends- celebrating her promotion. It had been in the talks for years and was finally approved the week before. 

She had never been so proud- her Nii-sama had personally called her to arrange and host a celebratory dinner in her honour and her predecessor, Captain Jushiro had flown in to attend it despite being on the other side of the Milky Way then and in such a frail condition no less. 

It was the perfect moment for her. Everything that she had worked so hard for was finally in sight and how she wished she could have that moment in time frozen. 

She for one had never expected to be pulled out from her celebratory dinner for some emergency situation involving an age old prophecy that's so old it's already been regarded as a myth. 

She didn't expect to be brought into the presence and confidence of the Exalted and told of the role she was to play as a pilot to herald the great expedition and return the twice blasted stone back to where it came from. 

She never expected to be the pilot that the Exalted would take an exception to, and while it was a great honour, she was hardly looking forward to commandeering a ship out into the far reaches of god-knows-where in the middle of her annual leave. 

She was expecting sandy beaches and balmy weather- instead she was given an unparalleled view of the splendid black void known as space. 

And instead of the wonderful homecoming she had been dreaming about for months now, she was _blessed_ with the terse companionship of the Chosen One. 

.

Rukia engaged the autopilot sequence as they went into hyperspace, sighing softly as she did. 

She certainly had better things to do than play babysitter to the moody hero. 

Violet eyes followed the erratic movement of his arm as he seemed to be conversing animatedly with an invisible entity, snarling and growling as he did. It's been going on like that for half an hour now; whatever _thing_ that he was arguing with- it seemed like they couldn't agree on where to go next. 

The Exalted had told her that the boy was _touched_ \- gifted and connected to the Stone now; he hears its thoughts and communicates with it. 

She should be understanding of the young man's plight as it was a responsibility of great importance and weary is the man who has been chosen to bear it. 

She rolled her eyes- it's hard to be when the man had all but rubbed her the wrong way since the moment she laid eyes on him. 

Part of it, she supposed was her fault; she didn't handle surprises well and she didn't like being proven wrong. 

He was altogether not what she had been expecting. The Exalted had mentioned a young boy who had been entrusted with the fate of the universe and innocent of the corrupted ways of Mankind- it was the only way that the Orb would have chosen him because this person was selfless and embodied the very essence that the Great One had foreseen. 

She had instantly thought of a young, sweet, delicate boy- bespectacled and precocious, perhaps one of the children from the minor nobilities like the Ukitakes and Kiras. 

He would call her Nee-san and she would call him Ichigo-kun. 

She would protect him on their journey into the great unknown and see to it that he gets home safely to his Momma at the end of the day. 

Imagine her surprise when she found a man- towering over her by a good head with a furious scowl to boot, standing in the Exalted's office. 

It was a jarring realization for her- instead of a cute toddler maybe only _yay_ high and reaching her shoulder at most, she was assigned to essentially babysit and be a bodyguard to a fully grown adult with the most ridiculous hair colour that she had ever seen. 

He was a hard man- toned and sinewy, with large hands that probably know the insides of ships a little more intimately than he does, a woman's; and vividly hued amber eyes that have seen enough diagnostic repair reports to memorize the internal Engine Bay for each and every type of air craft. 

She had pegged him as a Techie the minute she saw the grease stains on his jeans and smelt the sharp tang of ozone on him. It might have been faint but she's spent almost her whole life in the Docks now- she'll know by scent- the smell is almost imprinted on them; not to mention, the almost absent-minded habit he had of reaching for the tools on his leather holster. 

"I'm telling you that we can't go that way- it's crawling with Blacks and asteroids! I don't want to end up some slave or someone's dinner in some godforsaken part of the galaxy!" 

Did she mention that he was crazy too? 

The idiot came into contact with the Orb when he tried to steal it. She knew about the bet of course, everyone in the Docks does- a uniquely Mech Tech tradition that every member buys into. It probably doesn't help that most of them are bat-shit crazy and have a death wish to begin with. But still, hardly anyone would have thought that it was possible- the Orb is (or was) heavily guarded by Acolytes and sealed behind a solid, reinforced glass case that's unbreakable. 

Thousands have tried. None have succeeded until the idiot came along. 

The raven-haired pilot pursed her lips. 

It was hardly an ingenious plan to boot. All the moron did was take advantage of the night shift Acolytes' lack of experience and manipulated it so that they thought they were chasing after a thief when the real culprit was in the Vault all along. Worse still, the man had been drunk the whole time. 

She snorted. He owed his success to sheer dumb luck and a lax in security. 

Now if she were to steal it, you would have bet that the plan would have been carried out with much more finesse and they would never catch the culprit. 

Not in their lifetime, at least. 

.

Judging by the exasperated growl and steams coming off from the man, Rukia supposed that the old adage was true. 

Karma's a bitch and whatever stunt that Ichigo Kurosaki had pulled off to steal the Orb, she smirked; she was sure he regretted it now. 

She gave him five more minutes before she stepped in. They were never going to get anything done, let alone deliver the Orb safely if he was left in charge and she was tired of waiting and doing nothing. 

"So, got any idea where we're going yet, _Neo_?" 

Her only response was a fierce scowl- she wondered if he's capable of some other facial expression other than scowl and frown. 

"Believe me, midget," he grumbled, "you'll thank me for not getting both of us killed if you only knew where the Stone wants us to go through." 

. 

_It's perfectly safe you moron! You have me! The Orb- the messenger, His Will in this real-_

. 

"That doesn't mean jack shit to me! I am **not** about to let myself die just because a bloody stone tells me to!" 

. 

_I am not just 'a bloody stone', you Neanderthal! I am special, I am the Orb, I am His Will in this re-_

. 

The orange-haired man only clutched his head in sheer agony as though he was trying to tune out something. Rukia wondered if it was prudent to point out if he tugged any harder at his hair, he was in danger of tearing them out and becoming bald permanently. 

Rolling her eyes at the childish display, she said, "Just give me the coordinates." 

. 

_Gladly._

_It's a forty eight knots shift to the North, then fifteen to the North-East._

. 

"Right, done." 

The ship, Stargazer was set to course - just slightly out of the Retina Nebula. She did a brief mental calculation- given that they were now at the edge of the Milky Way; it would probably take them one week's time to reach their destination. 

She understood his hesitation- Lupus was not the safest of constellations to be travelling in. It's not quite as stable and with dying stars and supernovas, there's always the additional risk of running into pirates, smugglers, illegal miners the likes. 

But still, the journey should be safe as long as they steer clear of certain danger zones. They could easily stock up their food provisions on a nearby space station th- 

She froze. Eyes widening and she blinked, did she just-? 

That was odd to say the least. 

She blinked again. No, she must be imagining things. She could have sworn that there were only two of them on board and that voice didn't sound anything like the usual gruff drawl of her charge. 

Turning to Ichigo, she said, "Did you say something just now?" 

He looked surprised, bewildered at the question. He shook his head slowly before widening his eyes. 

Could it be that she had heard it too? 

It was a foreign sensation- and not altogether welcomed. She valued her privacy very much and she certainly didn't appreciate having another presence- divine or otherwise, intruding upon them. 

Rukia was stunned and her lips formed a grim line as she became convinced that what she heard was in fact the voice of the Hogyouku itself. 

Her eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. 

How could this happen? 

The prophecy said that the Orb was only supposed to awaken to the touch of the Chosen and only the Chosen would be able to converse with it. 

There could only be one Chosen One. 

And she is looking right at him- with his ugly scowl and five o'clock shadow. 

How could she be _touched_ as well? 

She had previously been presented before the Hogyouku of course – it was part of the coming-of-age ceremony that all children of nobility are required to participate in. 

It is believed that they were the descendants of the First Men who were chosen by the Great One. For as long as she could remember, all members of the nobility are expected to serve the Society and its Disciples. 

It was duty and tradition. 

All children, be it male or female, of major or minor nobilities were expected to be presented to the Hogyouku on their twelfth birthday- as promised to the Stone that there will always be new blood to carry on the tradition and honour the Words of the Great One, and of course, in hopes of that the Champion would be found among these children. 

The Orb hadn't even so much as glimmered or glowed when her tiny hands rested on it. 

This was yet another reason why she had the Chosen pegged as a child. She had not been paying much attention to the younger generation of nobilities but there were rumours of young prodigies cropping up among those of lower nobilities- she just thought that it meant that one of those children was the prophesied one all along. 

It was not a farfetched notion to her- that the Chosen One is actually not a matter of imagination but actually exists. She believed that it would happen but she had never thought that such an event would happen somewhere during her lifetime and that she would be involved in it as well. 

Rukia herself had been indoctrinated to the Words of the Great One since she was but old enough to walk. 

She would know anything about the Orb that's ever been recorded in the Holy Book and more. 

She furrowed her eyebrows. It didn't make sense. The Book never mentioned anything about having two Champions and she highly doubted the Archbishop would have heard of such a thing as well. 

It's too late to turn back now- they're light years away from Earth. 

.

"What's going on?" 

Brown eyes met violet. This time the Orb was mercifully silent as if contented by the fact that its wishes were obeyed and had nothing more to add. 

"Shit," he cursed and for once, they can both agreed on something. 

No amount of prodding or tapping on its hollow glimmering surfaces was able to cajole a reply from the thing. 

Ichigo merely snorted. It was so typical of the damn thing- turning tail the minute he had questions without so much as a goodbye on its way out. 

The dark-haired noble though was less satisfied. Rukia grumbled in annoyance and gave the inanimate thing a dark glare- she hated being kept in the dark about things and the fact that she was now embroiled and heavily involved with the Orb and the Holy mission, without having complete knowledge as to what as being expected of her- she frowned; the thought did not sit well with her. 

She needed answers damn it! 

Lifting the Orb in her hands and inspecting it in the light, she carefully knocked on it and when there wasn't a response, she tried to hit it harder. 

What she didn't expect was for the damn thing to get hot and burn through her gloves. 

She yelped in surprise and abruptly let go of the stone, carefully inspecting her hand and the pink skin on her palm- naked skin met her gaze and she scowled furiously. 

Those were her favourite pair! 

.

She sent a dark look at the chuckling Ichigo when she noticed that he was laughing at her expense. Her face turned pink and he wisely turned the other way but she could tell he was having a hard time hiding his laughter. 

She growled, she was going to show the damn thing who's boss if it was the last thing she did! 

It took her a good hour of poking and doing nothing short of throwing the Orb on the floor before she gave her howl of frustration and placed the Orb back on its cushioned pedestal. 

Still, she was far from giving up. 

Maybe not today but eventually she was going to have her answers from the damn Stone. She swore on her pride as a Kuchiki. It can't hide from her forever. 

"Stupid damn Orb," she murmured darkly and then turning to her companion whose laughter had long since subsided and now looked at her with something akin to amusement. No doubt still remembering her previous encounter with the Orb, she thought. 

Her face burned and she defensively crossed her arms with her Kuchiki mask of indifference perfectly in place. 

"What do you think is going to happen now?" 

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged sheepishly, "Hell if I know, but I guess welcome to this side of crazy, Lady Kuchiki." 

He held out his hand, large, callused and stained with oil greases. 

The pilot grudgingly accepted his handshake, enveloping her glove clad hand (minus a large hole on her palm) in his. 

"Call me Rukia." 

Her mouth twitched into a tiny resemblance of a wry smile and said, "I may not like you but we have a common enemy that I loathe more than you." 

"Only if you promise to stop making _Matrix_ and _Harry Potter_ references." 

She quirked an eyebrow and then smirked, "Whatever you say, _Son of the Suns_." 

Her dark eyes bored deep into his and he found himself smiling in spite of himself. 

Now don't get him wrong. They are far from friends and while that Kuchiki brat has got a pretty face, she's almost as stuck-up as her Councilman brother- he had made the connection relatively quickly, considering the family resemblance. 

But, at least she's got a sense of humour. There could be worse companions on this godforsaken journey than the pipsqueak and she's a First-class Captain. 

The Exalted wouldn't have entrusted the fate of the Orb and universe to just any random person- so she must be at the very least competent and good at what she does. 

Besides, for some reason she could hear the Orb too, that created a certain kinship or camaraderie he had for her- they shared at the very least, the same enemy as she has put it ever so eloquently. 

And so it begins- a journey through the cosmos with the unlikeliest of companions on the adventure of a lifetime.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as part of IR Month 2019 (Day 5: Future)- mass migration to Ao3 ongoing.
> 
> Imagine Ichigo wearing something Han Solo complete with the jacket and maybe a steampunk holster for his tools. Rukia is Princess Leia but instead of a dress- think skin tight space suit and fingerless gloves. _Mawwrrr!_ *winks
> 
> I know I know I know. Rukia is a bit mean here, but I had fun writing her b*tchy side. She's got sass you always knew that, so imagine her being forced onto a mission that's completely not on her list of priorities.
> 
>  _Voila!_ She just enjoys teasing Ichigo who's too easily flustered. XD  
> That at least is canon ;)
> 
> P.S. This has the potential like many of my works to turn into a multi-chaptered fic but I am reining in the plot bunnies for now.


End file.
